


Resolution

by mickie



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, New Year's Eve, PTSD Sherlock, Seblock - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-23 20:40:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13198152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickie/pseuds/mickie
Summary: On New Year's Eve, Sherlock meets the Colonel in a tavern.This story is now complete.





	1. New Year's Eve

**New Year's Eve**

It was New Year’s Eve and Sherlock had found himself alone in a quiet, run-down tavern to escape the snow and the loneliness. John and Mary had decided to celebrate in Portugal. Molly and Graham had taken Mrs. Hudson on a river cruise to see the fireworks. Sherlock had been invited but he hadn’t wanted to intrude. Mycroft was working. Mycroft was always working. Sherlock knew he could make a sudden appearance at Mycroft’s office and he’d have not only company but something to do. That wasn’t appealing for the evening..

Sherlock stared at the melting ice in his glass. He’d been nursing drinks since the afternoon. Never enough to even feel warm or lose his thoughts but just enough to relax. After Serbia and the following drug and alcohol binges; followed by threats from Mycroft about sending him to rehab; John and Mary adding more and more separation to their relationship; the whole debacle with Magnussen; and finally falling into what he truly would call a pit of despair from the isolation and loneliness, he’d quit. He’d stopped using any sort of drugs and refrained from drinking alcohol. 

The two weeks of hell he’d gone through had only reinforced his will. In an odd sort of way, he’d enjoyed the suffering. It had strengthened him and meant something to him that the previous times in rehab hadn’t. This time was real. Mycroft was hopeful but believed him to be insane. Sherlock cheerfully agreed.

The past year had been a personal challenge and many aspects had been grueling, but for the first time in his life, he felt as though he could stand on his own two feet and face whatever was thrown at him. Without excuses. Removing the drugs and reducing the alcohol had helped tremendously but so had what he felt was a significant change in attitude. He no longer felt helpless, swept away by the tides of circumstance, but instead, he held steady when he had to and moved with the currents around him when he wanted.

He still suffered from PTSD from Serbia but he no longer ran away from the situation. He accepted that he had to take care of himself when attacks happened or something triggered him and he worked on finding strategies to deal with the situation.

Sherlock didn’t know what exactly he wanted out of life but he knew he wanted to make a difference. He wanted to continue helping the Yard, more so than before, but he wanted to find a deeper meaning and purpose. He swirled the ice in his glass. That was, perhaps, going to be his New Year’s resolution, if he had to engage in such a mundane ritual.

Taking another sip, he determined that there really wasn’t much scotch left in the glass and it was mostly melted water. He eyed the clock; it was ten past eleven. He supposed he could order one more and make it last until two in the morning, which was the time that he’d decided he should probably leave. Sherlock had arrived shortly after four and had only had two drinks and a roast beef sandwich with crisps for dinner. He’d solved two Yard cases and one for Mycroft but, for the most part, he’d simply relaxed, watched the mindless telly that the tavern had on, and observed the people coming and going. The tavern had never filled but there had been a steady flow of patrons and Sherlock hadn’t ever felt truly lonely.

Much to his dismay, at that moment, someone sat down next to him. Sherlock bit back a sharp dismissal. There was no law preventing anyone from sitting next to him, despite almost every other seat at the counter and the majority of tables and booths being empty. Sherlock supposed it was going to be fine as long as the man didn’t talk to him. He fixed his eyes on the telly and willed silence to happen.

“Looks like you need another,” the man said and indicated Sherlock’s glass. His voice was reminiscent of every one of Mycroft’s posh and well-bred peers. 

Sherlock tried not growl, cringe, or deduce why someone who spoke like that was in this tavern and had chosen to not only sit next to him but start a useless conversation. “I don’t drink all that much,” he noted coolly and hoped that would be enough to dissuade the other person from pursuing the exchange.

“It’s New Year’s Eve,” the man continued. Sherlock forced himself not to roll his eyes. “But I understand.” He signaled for the server. When she approached, he ordered a gin and tonic for himself. Sherlock declined. It was best not to engage in any behavior that might be remotely considered social while there was a stranger sitting next to him attempting to be social. He willed the man to leave and hoped for greater success than before.

The man took a sip. “Do you have any resolutions for the coming year, _Mr. Holmes_?”

That phrase jolted Sherlock and sharpened all of his senses. He slowly turned to look at the seeming stranger who clearly knew more about him than vice versa. The man wore a winter coat, Gieves and Hawkes, bespoke, had to be with the proportions of the man, and a thick woolen hat. His bearing spoke military. He was solid and exuded an easy confidence. Blond. Fiery blue eyes that intimated intelligence and a raw hunger, the eyes of a killer, eyes that seemed to want to devour him. Sherlock took a deep breath but refused to shirk away from the challenge in the man’s eyes. “I believe you have me at a disadvantage…”

“And I like it that way,” the man stated but then smiled and, despite everything, the smile reached his eyes. He held out his hand. “Colonel Sebastian Moran.”

Sherlock took his hand but alarm bells were not just ringing, they were screaming, in his mind. This man had been Moriarty’s second; the man whose combat prowess and marksmanship put fear in the hearts of all who knew of him. He had held together the best parts of Moriarty’s network and made them the equivalent of an impenetrable fortress despite Sherlock and Mycroft’s best efforts to take them down. This didn’t bode well but, again Sherlock refused to cower in fear. It would certainly make for an interesting evening. “Pleasure…?” he murmured as they shook hands.

“It will be,” Sebastian said. Sherlock pulled his hand back as though he were about to be bitten by a snake. What on earth could the man mean by _that_? Sebastian laughed. “I’m not here to kill you. That would be boring and downright un-neighborly.”

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed as he tried to deduce more of the man’s intentions. Moran’s words didn’t seem to fit with what Sherlock knew of the man. He seemed to be _flirting_. “Why _are_ you here?”

“To see you.” Sebastian took another sip of his drink. “In person, that is.” 

That did not bode well at all. “I’m not sure that I want to know,” Sherlock grumbled.

“I’ve watched you plenty of times through the scope.” Sebastian grinned wickedly. “One of the best parts of my job. You’re beautiful.” Sherlock felt like he should be exceedingly concerned but the openness coming from the other man somehow disarmed him as well as reassured him. That did worry him a little. “That’s why you should feel safe,” Sebastian continued. “So many lines of sight at your place, you keep the curtains open, plus, when you’re ducking the CCTV cameras, you end up putting yourself in a better line for me. I could have killed you so many times; every day that I watched you.”

That thought should have been frightening but Sherlock simply found it annoying at this point. He glared at the man. “Are you trying to make me feel good?”

“Absolutely. But, just so you know, I wouldn’t have killed you,” Sebastian continued. “He never wanted you hurt and I would have found it a waste.”

Sherlock’s mind mapped everything that Sebastian had said. All the potential lines of sight, the way he moved in the city, everything. “You sound like a stalker.”

“Nah, I only did it if there was a business reason,” Sebastian said. “And after, if you, uuuuuh, drank too much or used, or when you were having the bad panic attacks. I’d watch you to be sure that you were going to be okay.”

Sherlock’s eyes widened. The man had been watching over him but in a non-threatening and certainly, non-Mycroft way. He wasn’t sure how that made him feel. “I wasn’t okay,” Sherlock quietly admitted before he had a chance to censor himself. “And I’m still not okay.”

“None of us are okay in the grand scheme of things. Okay is this made up state that people use for all the wrong reasons.” This time Sebastian smiled with such warmth that it shocked Sherlock. He wanted to wrap himself up in it. He looked away almost shyly because he couldn’t face the genuine honesty and caring in the man’s voice. Sebastian continued, “I meant okay as in not dead, you know, and then, really, I’m not sure what you would have done in the state you were in, if I’d just showed up so, I didn’t. But I wanted to.”

“I see your point,” Sherlock said quietly, still not daring to look at the other man. A part of him wanted to return Sebastian’s honesty with his own while another part screamed that there was safety in silence, hiding, and not caring. He took a deep breath and decided to move into uncharted territory. “I wouldn’t have minded.” Sebastian reached out and took Sherlock’s hand.

“Half the time I would have been out of my mind from substance so, I wouldn’t have noticed,” Sherlock said and fought the urge to pull back his hand. It felt nice but years and years of shielding himself away from human contact were hard to dismiss. “And the other half, well, I was alone and anything would have been better than that.” Saying that out loud seemed to lift a burden and Sherlock exhaled profoundly.

“They all moved on,” Sebastian supplied. Sherlock nodded and silently wondered if it would be considered untoward to intertwine his fingers with Sebastian’s. He opted not to. “Things were different for a while after Jim left. The novelty of putting the chaff in your way, scrambling the important pieces, running cases and operations with minimal supervision at first, then on my own, still keeping an eye on you, it kept me pretty busy at first. The first year for sure, then it got easier. And lonelier.”

Sherlock nodded but one of Sebastian’s comments had piqued his interest. “You said minimal supervision. That leads me to believe that-” Sebastian squeezed his hand and pursed his lips in warning. Sherlock stopped, nodded, and then proceeded, “Perhaps a mutual friend is still alive.”

Sebastian sighed. “Let me finish this and then we’ll head out,” he said. “I’ll explain on the way.” Sherlock nodded and Sebastian again called the server. He paid for both their tabs even though Sherlock protested and then they left the tavern. Sebastian wrapped his arm around Sherlock’s waist and pulled him close. Sherlock felt as though he should protest but it felt too comfortable, too warm, too right to fight it.

*~*~*


	2. Walking Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Sebastian stroll toward Baker St. in the snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for mild allusions to torture.  
> This is a short update. There weren't any good spots to stop after this one. I'll post the last chapter tomorrow night.

**Walking Home**

“My place?” Sherlock said as he noticed the direction in which they were headed.

“Your place,” Sebastian agreed. “If we go to one of mine, then I’d have to figure out a way to make you forget and that could get a bit messy.”

Sherlock immediately came up with eighty-six scenarios in which that wouldn’t end well for either of them. “Fair.” They walked in companionable silence as it continued to snow and Sherlock savored every minute of it. Someone had walked away from whatever he had been doing, planning, or usually did on New Year’s Eve to be with _him_. And he’d been flirting. Sherlock tried to access memories or articles that he’d read on what one was supposed to do in such a situation.

Eventually Sebastian spoke. “Our mutual friend retired. He decided he didn’t want to play with you anymore since you involved your brother; because your brother doesn’t play nicely.” 

Bringing his focus back to the conversation, Sherlock looked away. Only after Serbia had he started wondering what Mycroft had done to Jim and if that had been the reason things had changed between them. The flirting had changed and real animosity had surfaced. Mycroft had refused to provide information. Too many thoughts flashed through his mind. “Why didn’t you take a shot after that?” Sherlock asked. “I would assume he would have ordered it. Or you would have wanted to.”

“He never wanted you dead,” Seb said and shook his head. “After I saw what your brother did to him, I was furious, but, like I said before, killing you would have been such a waste and it was never an option unless it became a matter of self defense.”

Sherlock nodded. He wasn’t sure what to say to that so he remained silent for a while. They continued walking towards Baker Street. “How is he?” he finally asked.

“He has good days and bad days,” Sebastian replied. “I try to get out to see him every now and then. We decided it was better to separate but I think he really wanted to be alone. He was tired of my trying to help him.”

“He didn’t want your help?”

“Yes, and no. I got him through the immediate aftermath of your brother and I do the best that I can when he has a crisis and decides that he might need me for a bit but…” Sebastian shrugged. “He and I are very close but we’re not… I don’t know how to explain it. We’re not what each of us truly needs.” He laughed but it was tinged with sadness. “He needs someone brainier, someone more intellectual than me.”

Sherlock winced at the irony. “He needs someone like Mycroft.”

“Yeah, I did think that a while back. I think they would have been perfect for each other except…”

“Right.” Sherlock sighed and cuddled closer to Sebastian. “What do _you_ need?”

“I think the correct answer right now is _you_ ,” Sebastian said. Sherlock snorted, considered punching Sebastian, and then did so, lightly. 

“Ow,” Sebastian grumbled. “I’m bleeding out.”

“You deserved that.”

“C’mon, it’s a good pick-up line,” Sebastian said. “No, seriously, I think smart is a complete turn-on. I can’t handle brainless. Say things that are smart to me while I’m pounding you into the mattress? That’s sheer heaven. Fastest way to destroy me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sherlock quipped but he felt his cheeks warm at the images that had brought up. It was intriguing and made him feel something that he’d be hard pressed to define. “Most of the people I’ve been with, ages ago that is, wanted me to keep quiet or…”

“Wanted to use your mouth for other things?” Sherlock felt himself blush even more and tried to stammer out a reply but Sebastian continued. “We can do that too, if you want, but I like hearing intellectual musings during sex. Taxonomy, chemistry, substances that I’ve never heard of, case files, deductions, directions to obscure places, the next big art heist, or how you solved it, whatever. It’s a fucking turn-on.”

Sherlock nodded. “Most people prefer it if I shut up, in _all_ circumstances.”

“Idiots. I can fix them for you,” Sebastian said playfully. Sherlock chuckled and shook his head. He decided that he would have liked to introduce Sebastian to Sally Donovan. “I also like to be needed,” Sebastian said, apparently going back to the earlier topic. “I like to take care of things, you know, for those that I care for.”

A lot of pieces fell into place in Sherlock’s mind. “And he never liked needing you,” he surmised. “Even when he did need you.”

“He hated it.” They walked the rest of the way to Baker Street mostly in silence. Again, Sherlock was amazed at how comfortable he was in Sebastian’s presence while walking down the street with the man’s arm around him. The old Sherlock would have rebelled and sought separation. The snow continued falling gently but Sherlock didn’t notice overly much. It was too nice.

*~*~*


	3. Resolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Sebastian spend the night together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: a bit of naughtiness ensues  
> TW: some description of torture  
> TW: PTSD
> 
> There will be a happy ending.

**Resolution**

Walking up the stairs, Sherlock marveled at how silently and gracefully Sebastian moved. He also found it erotic. How would that powerful body feel against his? After he turned on the lights and stepped inside, Sebastian shut the door and locked it pointedly. Sherlock absentmindedly wondered if he should be afraid and decided that any fear he felt would only make whatever was coming better. He turned and Sebastian pulled him into his arms. The kiss that followed left him breathless and he felt himself melting against the other man.

Sebastian nipped Sherlock’s lower lip then slid his mouth to Sherlock’s neck and started working a bruise just below his collar while his fingers unbuttoned Sherlock’s shirt. The other arm held him upright and that was, perhaps, the only thing keeping him on his feet. Sebastian was making him dizzy. He wondered how, exactly, he was being undressed so quickly and so expertly. Sebastian’s hand danced on his body and left a trail of fire which juxtaposed pleasantly with the cool of the air against his bare skin.

“Do you know what the worst part of keeping a sight on you was?” Sebastian drawled. Sherlock shook his head. “Focus. When all I could keep from thinking about was how you’d feel writhing underneath me or your lips tightening around me while I kept you down on your knees.”

Sherlock moaned as those images filled his body with heat. He pressed himself against the still fully-clothed Sebastian and luxuriated in the feel of the man and the power imbalance. “You like to be in charge,” he stated. 

“Uh huh,” Sebastian answered while grabbing Sherlock’s ass and kneading both cheeks. “You want me to be in charge.” His mouth slid to the other side of Sherlock’s neck and started sucking at the spot where the pulse was close to the skin. Lost in a haze of desire, Sherlock decided that he didn’t mind Sebastian using him as a canvas one bit. He was being thoroughly marked and that thought gave him comfort.

They slowly made their way toward the bedroom and Sherlock let go of Sebastian long enough to struggle with the door knob and open the door. Sebastian was alternating between kissing him and finding new spots of skin to lavish attention upon. Eventually Sherlock felt himself being lowered onto the bed. He looked up and Sebastian had pulled out a condom and packet of lube from the pocket of his jeans.

Sherlock took a moment to admire the man’s body as Sebastian started undressing. He was solid muscle and moved with the grace of a big cat. “Why tonight?” he asked. “You’ve been watching me all this time.”

“I don’t know,” Sebastian replied and then smiled in a way that left Sherlock no doubt as to his honesty. “New year and all but, really, it just seemed right.” Sherlock nodded and then his eyes widened as Sebastian took off his briefs and tossed them aside. He was no virgin but the man was big. Sebastian grinned. “Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.” 

Sherlock nodded and then relaxed as he watched Sebastian squirt lube on his finger before starting to prepare him. First one finger. Sherlock hissed but then relaxed into the sensation. It had been over ten years since he’d been with anyone and that had been only to get drugs. He’d had one relationship during uni: with his roommate, Victor Trevor, but that had ended poorly, over his drug use. 

As Sebastian added a second finger, Sherlock felt more pleasure. He didn’t want the moment to ever end and he marveled at the warmth and intimacy he saw in the man’s eyes. Intimacy was something that had been foreign for so long that it amazed him to see it in a man like Sebastian. Something told him that what was happening that evening was significant and Sebastian didn’t seem the type to walk out casually.

He shifted as Sebastian added a third finger and then moaned when suddenly he felt Sebastian’s lips on his cock and the man swallowed his entire length. He scrunched his eyes shut and sunk into the sensations. Bliss, nothing but bliss. Fingers and mouth. Sherlock wasn’t sure it could get any better than this. He was hard and felt himself getting close. 

Then Sebastian pulled his mouth off and his fingers out. Sherlock’s eyes flew open and he groaned with dismay. He opened his eyes and glared at Sebastian who shot him an innocent look which should seem so incongruous with the man but it worked. Must be practiced. It was too good. Sebastian grinned smugly and then positioned himself between Sherlock’s legs. 

Sherlock took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as Sebastian eased inside of him. There was no pain but a feeling of being stretched like he’d never been before. He grasped Sebastian’s arms and pulled his knees up just a little. This was perfect. He wanted to feel it for the next few days. He wanted to be lost in the oblivion where pleasure and pain merged into mind-numbing ecstasy.

Feeling Sebastian press against him, he opened his eyes. The man was in to the hilt and watching him for approval. Sherlock nodded. “Just so you know,” he said and smirked. “I’m not made of glass.” 

Sebastian grinned, pulled out almost fully them slammed into him. “Like it a bit rough, do you, beautiful?”

Sherlock didn’t know what he found more erotic: the words, the compliment, or what Sebastian was doing. “I expect to be impressed, Moran,” he tried to growl but knew it had come out with nothing but eagerness. 

“Tap my arm three times if you need me to slow down or stop, or use the stoplight colors,okay?” Sebastian said. Sherlock was pleased that despite his indication that Sebastian had free reign, the man had given him safewords. “Green, Moran, fucking green. Take that green and give it your best shot. Make me scream!” Sebastian grinned ferally and then proceeded to pound mercilessly into Sherlock. 

Sherlock soon lost himself in the building crescendo of ecstasy. Sebastian’s rhythm was a blend of forcefulness and presence. There was nothing uncontrolled in the man’s powerful movements. Sherlock moved his hands to Sebastian’s back and dug his nails in. Sebastian continued the punishing rhythm until both were close to the edge but then pulled them back. 

Sherlock growled but he loved it this way. Raking his nails up and down the muscled back, he urged Sebastian on by tightening his muscles when the man pulled out and letting his body rock with the movement when Sebastian drove into him. They continued for what seemed an eternity and when Sherlock felt as though there was nothing but sheer ecstasy and he could take no more, Sebastian brought them both over the edge.

Sherlock knew he must have blacked out. He vaguely felt Sebastian cleaning him with a warm, wet flannel but he was too comfortable and blissful to care. Soon, the other man was wrapped around him and he fell comfortably asleep.

*~*~*

Sherlock was in Serbia and he couldn’t breathe. They were holding him underwater and they were coming with the electricity. He always knew when they’d be coming with the electricity. It jolted through him and he screamed. He felt the water pouring into his mouth and struggled to break free and somehow regurgitate it. He was drowning. _Alkali metals_. Another jolt of electricity coursed through him. He couldn’t breathe. _Lithium_. The electricity burned him and made his stomach clench painfully but he still couldn’t get the water out. He tried to struggle and screamed again. _Sodium_. It was pulling him under. _Potassium_. They were whipping him. There was blood everywhere. _Rubidium_. He screamed once more, struggled with as much as strength as he could muster, and the electricity jolted him again. He was so weak and felt that he was dying.

“ _Caesium_ ,” a voice cut through his mind, crystal clear. Sherlock’s eyes flew open and he started gasping for breath while trembling violently. Strong arms encircled him and moved him so that a muscled body could roll on top of him. Gently. Sherlock continued to fight for air but his body was beginning to calm. Who was on top of him? Why was someone in his flat? The person was holding himself up just enough so that Sherlock felt some pressure but wasn’t suffocating. “ _Francium_.”

Sherlock looked around. His mind was racing but some clarity was returning. His mind keyed in on the words. He was in his bed in Baker Street, not Serbia. He was in bed with Sebastian who was saying elements of the periodic table to him. Sebastian on top of him. It was soothing and grounding, starting to bring him out of the uncontrolled panic. Even though he was still trembling wildly, he pushed at Sebastian’s arms to get the man to relax. “More pressure?” Seb asked.

Sherlock nodded and Sebastian gently lowered his full weight on top of him. Sherlock buried his face in the man’s shoulder. “Let me know if you want me to move,” Sebastian said. “But I’m paying attention so you don’t have to explain. I’ll probably get it. You do what you need to do. Do you want more elements? Alkali earth metals are next. I know them all.” 

“Ye-es.” Sherlock shivered and focused on his breathing while Sebastian continued to list elements. Eventually the rote words helped break the loop of panic and Sherlock felt himself and his thoughts coming somewhat back to normal. He tapped for Sebastian to stop and the man did so. That had been a bad one and Sherlock knew it would take hours before he was completely back to normal. He wasn’t sure why he was feeling good with Sebastian on top of him but he decided to relish it for as long as he could. Sebastian seemed to be obliging.

They remained mostly unmoving until the morning. Sherlock awoke and sighed. He must have dozed off, which was unusual after a panic attack, and he felt relaxed even if still somewhat weak with that _empty_ feeling after a panic attack. Gently caressing Sebastian’s arms arms with his fingers, he looked up and noted that the man was awake and alert. “Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning to you,” Sebastian replied and half-rolled off of Sherlock, somehow guessing just what Sherlock needed. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. Thank you. Still weak and not quite together but better than expected.” Sherlock cuddled into Sebastian’s side but looked at the man and deduced. “You’ve done this before.”

“Yeah,” Sebastian said and somehow managed to wrap his arms around him. Sherlock decided that he didn’t need to know exactly how that had happened. It was simply good. “A lot of the men had trouble after we got back from the war,” Sebastian explained. “They were my boys and it didn’t matter that the tour was over and we’d been sent home, they’re still mates and we take care of each other.”

Sherlock nodded and then asked hesitantly, “Jim too?”

Sebastian nodded. “He had issues before and then, after your brother, it was a nightmare,” he said. “He made it look good. He has the control of a vice grip. I bet your brother never knew how much damage he did.”

“Mycroft considers Moriarty his _only_ failure.”

“Yeah, he failed and yet he didn’t on so many other levels.” Sebastian sighed. “I wanted to murder your brother right after. I still do sometimes. The things they did…”

Sherlock winced. “I didn’t know,” he whispered. “Not then. And I still don’t know, exactly, but I know what was done to me.” He shuddered and Sebastian caressed the side of his body in such a soothing manner that Sherlock almost wanted to cry. He pressed his head into Sebastian’s chest. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t know.”

“I know,” Sebastian murmured and pressed a kiss on the top of Sherlock’s head, “I hated you for a while too but then I figured out that you really didn’t know and it was probably a series of miscommunications that had disastrous results. The military is rife with those. Jim did forgive you after a while.”

“He just refused to get help?”

“Yeah, still does,” Sebastian said and Sherlock felt the sadness exude from the man. “Too much control for needing anything, anyone, any help, or me.”

“Are you still…?”

“We’re still friends, associates,” Sebastian said. “If I get overwhelmed with a case, he helps me out but he’s just... retired... from consulting. He calls me if his… well, how shall I put it, symptoms, maybe, get to the point where they interfere with his life but otherwise he trucks along like nothing happened.” He sighed. “And I worry that the damage gets closer and closer to irreversible, if it isn’t already.”

“I’m going to try to help him,” Sherlock stated.

Sebastian chuckled. “He won’t accept help, even from you.”

“I want to try,” Sherlock said resolutely. “I’ve been through too much and it has to mean something in the end or it will have been pointless. I used to think that I understood him. I hope that I still do. That we’re still on that same frequency. I’ll figure something out.”

Sebastian nodded. “I’d say that you have a better chance of helping him or, at least, getting him to listen.”

“It’ll piss off Mycroft at the very least and that’s reason enough,” Sherlock said and shot Sebastian a teasing smile. “But not the main reason.”

“Pissing off your brother, or anyone in my family for that matter, is a very fine reason.” Sebastian kissed the top of Sherlock’s head and Sherlock sensed that an understanding had passed between them. “Can I make you a New Year’s breakfast? I used to do that for Jim all the time. Eggs, mushrooms and/or tomatoes or asparagus if he remembered to get some, cinnamon pancakes, streaky bacon, tea…”

Sherlock felt warmth suffuse his entire body. He couldn’t quite understand this man who wanted him, wanted to care for him, and didn’t seem to be bothered by his issues and problems. “That sounds perfect,” he murmured. “Except that there’s nothing in the fridge besides a couple of experiments that couldn’t even pass for mushrooms if you squint.”

“A little walk to Tesco’s will do us some good, then.”

“Can I keep you?”

Sebastian laughed. “I don’t think you can get rid of me.”

_The End._

*******

Thank you for reading. Happy New Year!! I wish you all nothing but the best in the coming year.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading.


End file.
